From eight to nine

I've not blogged for a while, not because I haven't wanted to but because I've been learning. For those of you that know me, I love to learn. Sadly however I have had to come to a realisation that no matter how much you "know" or can understand whats "happening" knowledge itself will only get you so far. It can give meaning, help you express and communicate, it can even give you confidence, but there are some things knowledge can't do.

It can't stop your over wrought nervous system shaking when something spontaneous happens, it can't get rid of emotional pain trapped inside you, it can't help explain fear even if the logical explanation might help comfort "it" a little.

So as those of you who read my last post have realised, I have got to a stage where I am ready to introduce my mind to my body. "What?" you may ask "your attached to your body, what on earth do you mean?".

Speech and communication

"Can you put the peanut butter in the box please?"

Interpretation, "Can you put the butter away in the fridge?"

"I've made a rose pot last night"

Interpretation, "look I designed some rose patterns on a wooden vase last night (art)."

"Can you put the sandwiches in the boot?"

Interpretation, "Is the food in the car?"

Those of you that know me on a day to day have got used to my inability to consistently communicate. Some days I am able to speak consistently and coherently but other days it all just comes out wrong. Sometimes this misattunement can go even further and I find myself unable to speak at all. I know exactly what I want to say, have the words in my mind but they just won't come out. If I manage to force them out it will be because who ever I'm talking to has waited (sometimes up to a minute) for me to rally round and find a way.

I find conversations extremely hard. On a one to one there is often no problem, but put me in a group and its extremely stressful. Then put that group in a restaurant or a bar and I will openly admit to often resorting to alcohol to keep me relaxed enough to have any hope of surviving.

Recently I was reminded of the basics. When you have a brain that is hard wired to constantly scan for danger it is impossible to function efficiently if you feel unsafe. When under threat or perceived threat your pre frontal cortex (the logical bit) is switched on and off. Chemicals produced during this process such as cortisol and adrenaline can remain floating in your system in debilitating amounts for up to four hours after being released in enough amount to help you lift a car (pass the wine please or can I go to bed now).  

Add to that the unsafety of not being in total control of your inner world, I often have looping lines of songs that haunt me for days, ringing in my ears, banging in one ear and voices arguing or interrupting my thoughts. The voices may be commenting directly on the situation or giving me advice about the person Im speaking to, sometimes they just challenge me to swear F***k OFF!!!!!, they loop often saying the same thing over and over whilst getting louder which will invariably bring out maybe another two / three voices to argue back or endorse whats going on. (I ask for more wine to numb things,"I need to go to my room").

Part of my healing journey has been to acknowledge that there are very few spaces I feel safe in. I carry within in me enough to make the safest place unsafe. I feel like a walking sabotage. I have had to learn that this sabotage is not a direct reflection of my character but it is an addon to my fragmented identity. In the past I have thought I was just a very bad person rotten to the core. In those days my lack of understanding would result in distruction of some kind which would then just confirm to me my horridness.

But I have learnt other things aswell. I have learnt that to try and deny the voices, the need to sleep, the banging, looping, swearing and inability to communicate only makes it all worse. I have learnt that to try and constantly "make myself like look like everyone else" also makes things worse. We live in a new era of understanding and tolerance where expression is allowed and I want to say thank you to all my friends and family who make me feel safe and normal by letting me be and do what is "my normal".

Frog Face

1991 aged 14 and 'frog face' started to follow me. I did not get away until 1997 then aged 20.

Frog face would wait for my school bus and lurk in the roads opposite. Frog face would watch me through the door to the sweet shop I worked in. Frog face would call, send letters and sit on the other side of the road watching our house. Frog face could appear at any point, at any time of day. I could not shake Frog face.

You may think that Frog face was a figment of my imagination, unfortunately that was not the case. For almost 6 years I was stalked.

As previously discussed I have a complex history. Frog face was just part of what has made that thick strong 'C' in the word complex.

Already fairly damaged in my world view, I found myself having to learn to live being disempowered daily. By the 'fear' of the 'ifs, maybes' by the potential of Frog face appearing without my control. I would stand on one side of my front door not knowing, would there be another note on the other-side. I jumped if ever the letter box clanged, or the phone rang.

For reasons I cant go into in this blog, I was unable to tell any one about my situation. All I will say is that Frog face was an adult who held a secret over me. To endure those days at the time, I believed outweighed the shame of anyone finding out. (As I said my perspective was already damaged).

So why write this? if I don't want to write about what happened and why?

Well I love brains, I love how they cope and how they protect themselves. During those years I found my brain doing just that. Protecting me in the best and most honest way it could. You see my brain was my greatest friend. We argued, we fought, we had stand offs! we did all the things together that BFFs do. But it has only been in the last three years that my best friend 'brain' has aloud me/us to share our friendships with others.

Over those long years my identity went from singular to plural. It still remains that way today, I am not an 'I' I am 'we'. At first I split myself in half. The day belonged to Frog face but the night was mine. During the day hyper vigilant, my whole focus was on avoiding and planning ways of out witting Frog face. At night I sewed a hidden pocket into my jeans. In it I tucked a protective knife 'we/I' would go out walking with the families fat springer spaniel. I'd walk in freedom owning my world and revelling in the sense of safety.

Pretty quickly I realised another split was needed if I was going to avoid anyone  knowing what was happening.  At school I created another split in another world as although bullied, it was at least 'seen'.

This splitting carried on until I was nine different people / personalities.  I jumped between these personalities daily depending on the environments encountered.

Soon we were all defined enough to speak for ourselves. We made an internal community. We had all our answers, we did not need anyone. Having lived through this process quite naturally and at the time logically. I have nothing but respect for grey matter.

I met Zippy and so started the great clamp down on the now completely dysfunctional set of people living in my head.  The greater the safety I could trust, the greater the need to want to quiet everything down into something less confusing. As Zippy says 'Carwen nothing directly bad has happened to you now for 13 years'. Today my personalities have been whittled down to bare shadows. Only their voices remain with me. I have learnt to accept them and accept us all living and chatting in my cortex. On good days we are friends, on bad days we are enemies  (especially when I'm tired), there is sometimes just complete overwhelm. But as my strap line says. I am Colourful Carwen, a crowded brain learing to be at peace with itself and its inhabitants!.

Three in one

There is a great big wall in my life at the moment. Split in two: one Carwen on one side and one Carwen on the other  (and then a third watching from somewhere high up).

Firstly let me describe the wall, it's made of thick concrete and it's all grey. The surface is smooth on one side but gritty and sandpapery on the other. It's tall so so tall and it's wide. In short it's impenetrable and it's so densely made even sound can not get through. The Carwen stuck on one side has no chance of getting to the Carwen on the other. Only the Carwen high, high up can see into both sides.

Let me describe each Carwens predicament. 

The Carwen on the left hand side is presenting what look like anger. She is volatile and flies off the handle in a moment. She is the strong, the determined and the fighter. The wall on her side is smooth and she uses it as a guard to watch her back. If anyone approaches this Carwen they are met with suspicion that can turn into attack at the mere fluttering of potential threat.

The Carwen on the right side is beaten. She has been trapped by this wall for such a long time. Her body is thin, tired and bruised. She loves the Carwen in the left hand side, she wants to calm her down. Understanding that really angry Carwen is only scared, the anger is a front for deep pain.

 But now she sits immobile, the wall on her side is  sandpapery and rough. It scrapes and shaves at her thin arms and legs. She has sat now in defeat and despair, knowing her twin is hopping around misunderstood and communicating everything that is not true.

The third Carwen, the observer. She looks down on the other two. She watches as if it were an amusing game. She looks from one to the other but feels nothing. There is not much to write about her as looking is really all she does. 

Occasionally she considers climbing down to help one or the other but she is met with such confusion as to who is in most need. So the result is to just sit passively and not get involved. She is frozen by overwhelm.

This Blogg I dedicate to my young fighter friend. I write on your behalf as you are to young, in the hope that my experiences will help others see meaning in yours.

The dreaded silent gap

So what I would like to tackle today is what I call the dreaded gap.

As you know, change is not something I adapt to easily and this morning was a classic example.

Over the weekend we had left our car at the office and borrowed the mini bus to help with a children's party on the Saturday.

Monday morning, this morning, Zippy reminded me again that we would drive the kids to school in the mini bus (not the car) . I was greatful for the warning of difference as I had again forgotten the change. His warning meant a softer landing on its encounter.

More movement please!!!

I get stuck in positions that are physically uncomfortable but it takes me ages to realise I am physically frozen and then move.

For example:

Like being sat in a chair with an outside door open making me cold.  I want to move and shut the door (adding to the situation that I'm hungry and thirsty). The thought of getting a cup to my mouth off a table that's so easily in reach - I stare at the cup willing it to fly to me but know you need to bend, move your arm, and pick it up. 

Uncrossing my legs, because my leg is going numb or my ankle is bent and uncomfortable way, I lean over the sink and drain vegetables whilst my feet are still planted by the cooker.  I remind myself, as I realise my back is twisted and mildly hurting, thinking "move your feet, make yourself straight in front of the sink, pivots and loads! pivots and loads! & remember pivots and loads!"